


We'll Take a Cup of Kindness Yet

by georgiamagnolia



Category: Man From U.N.C.L.E.
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2011-12-30
Updated: 2011-12-30
Packaged: 2017-10-28 11:51:58
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,743
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/307596
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/georgiamagnolia/pseuds/georgiamagnolia
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Illya and Napoleon treat themselves to some Holiday R&R after a mission.</p>
            </blockquote>





	We'll Take a Cup of Kindness Yet

"Wake up."

The intrusion was as unwelcome as it was abrupt.

“The handsome prince is supposed to kiss me.”

“There is no handsome prince available and you are certainly no sleeping beauty. Make yourself useful, if you please.”

“I’m open to suggestions.”

“And that usually finds you trouble.”

“This wasn’t my fault, partner.”

“I hate to admit it, but this time you are right.”

“Can I quote you on that?”

“Only if you are the one writing the report.”

The two agents fell silent. In the complete darkness of whatever holding cell THRUSH had dumped them in Napoleon could hear rustling. He pulled at the bindings on his hands and determined that it was rope that held him. He tried for some play in it and found that the rope was very tight and the knots were nowhere near his fingers. The rope was wound up to his elbows and secured in a professional manner. He would need a third hand or a sharp knife to get out of it.

“I hope they tied you looser than they did me, I think I might expect to be roasted soon, I’m trussed so well.”

“They apparently only had one set of handcuffs and were forced to improvise.” There came more rustlings and a soft grunt. “They mistakenly thought that handcuffs were the better option for me.”

“THRUSH does so love to underestimate you.” Napoleon’s feet were free but he was having difficulty standing without the use of his arms, his balance was off and he began to wonder if he’d been dosed with something at some point during this affair.

More sounds of movement brought Illya up against Napoleon and he could feel Illya pushing something small against his fingers.

“You’re going to have to pick this, I can’t. I think I will be able to get you out of the ropes if you can get the cuffs off me.”

Napoleon held tightly to the pick Illya had passed him and gently felt for the mechanism to spring the cuffs. One of his partner’s hands was significantly swollen and the reason for his difficulty became clear. He may end up writing the report after all. Napoleon nearly laughed at the thought but suppressed it, knowing Illya would hardly find it amusing.

The cuff finally sprang free and Napoleon could feel the sigh of relief from Illya though it was never voiced. Illya rolled away and then was back, tracing the ropes from Napoleon’s wrists to his elbows. Then there was the tugging as Illya slowly picked at the knots with his good hand.

***

“A good night’s sleep is all I need and I will get that much easier at home.”

“Mr. Solo, we do not know yet what side effects there might be…”

“You said yourself it was only a sedative,” Napoleon interrupted the doctor, “and I have been treated worse by THRUSH and set free.” Napoleon smiled with his most harmless expression. “I’d so much rather be home for the holiday, wouldn’t you?”

If the doctor wondered how Napoleon knew that there were no other overnight patients in Medical at the moment, she didn’t let on.

“I promise to check in with someone on a regular basis, if there are any, ah, complications I will call.” Now his smile was pure charm and he could see the doctor ready to give in.

Napoleon double checked before leaving Medical; his partner was still being bandaged and fussed over by a pretty nurse, not that Illya was noticing much of her flirting.

Napoleon made a few calls before settling down to his work. He was signing his name to the multiple copies of the report when Illya finally came through the door of their office.

“Sign this and we can get out of here for a few days,” Napoleon said and offered the folder of reports up as Illya passed him on the way to his own desk.

Illya had to turn to take the folder with his left hand, threw himself into his chair and opened the folder to read. Napoleon tried not to smile as he listened to his partner mutter his disagreement with certain points. Illya finished reading and shot a glare towards Napoleon who did a fairly believable job of appearing innocent, unless you knew him well and could read the glint in his eye. Illya did and could.

“You got the facts _technically_ correct.” Illya signed the forms, a bit awkwardly as it was with his left hand.

“It looks better already,” Napoleon nodded at Illya’s hand.

“I should be fine in a few days, only a bad sprain.”

“Several of them, I heard.”

Illya shrugged, then nodded. “Yes, five in fact.”

“Ouch.”

“I’m pretty sure they were giving me some payback for spoiling their plans. Of course, they didn’t expect I could fight just as well one handed. They won’t make the same mistake again.”

“This batch won’t, but you can be sure there will be others who will not have learned from sad experience.”

“Consider me your secret weapon, in that case.”

“I usually do.” Napoleon looked smug and Illya simply rolled his eyes and stood, handing the folder of reports back to his partner.

“I believe we are free to go now.”

“We are indeed, shall we?” Napoleon stood, folder in hand.

Illya nodded and headed for the door. Napoleon detoured to leave the folder on the desk of their secretary and caught up with his partner at the elevator. They remained quiet all the way to the garage where Napoleon ushered Illya into the car so he wouldn’t have to painfully shut the car door with his handful of sprained fingers or try to reach across to pull the door shut with his uninjured left hand.

When they reached their apartment building Napoleon automatically pushed the button for his floor, Illya reached across to push his own floor and Napoleon put his hand out to stall him. “Please?”

Illya glanced up sharply, questions in his gaze, Napoleon’s voice was not the characteristic slick he was used to hearing.

“I, ah, was hoping you’d join me tonight. For dinner?”

Illya appeared to contemplate this while the elevator doors shut and the car started its smooth ascent. After a moment he nodded once and leaned back against the wall, cradling his wounded hand with the other, the only sign that the pain was a bother. Napoleon relaxed and watched the floor indicator light each floor that they slid past until the P for penthouse was lit and then both men came to attention as the doors opened on the empty hall in front of Napoleon’s apartment.

Inside with the alarm and security reset, the men both took off their coats and suit jackets, relaxed at last after the difficulty of the day. Illya browsed the shelves of books in the sitting room while Napoleon busied himself in the kitchen.

Illya looked up when Napoleon called him into the kitchen, a question plain in his eyes when he inhaled the scents of fresh baked bread and meatloaf and mashed potatoes. He put away the book he’d been leafing through and joined his partner at the table.

“That was fast.”

“I admit I had some help, I called ahead to Mrs. Chalmers and told her I was in need of assistance. Security let her in, she left it all in the oven to stay warm.” Napoleon waved a thick slice of buttered bread, “It’s just our luck that today was baking day in the Chalmers household.”

“You should put that woman on retainer, Napoleon.” Illya picked up his own thick slice of bread, thoughtfully buttered already by his host.

“What makes you think I haven’t?” The sparkle in his eye was answered by a half grin from Illya, the first thing approaching a smile Napoleon had seen since their escape.

They ate dinner in the quiet of a dark Winter night, the window showing a sky full of clouds that threatened snow to come but had yet to deliver. Napoleon shooed Illya from the kitchen and cleaned up the table after they had finished.

“I suppose an after dinner drink is contraindicated,” Napoleon said when he joined Illya.

Illya turned from the window, drink in his hand. “Speak for yourself.”

“What the good doctor doesn’t know…”

“Will likely get us benched or dead.” Illya saluted Napoleon with his glass and took a sip.

“I do like how you choose to live dangerously.” Napoleon poured himself a glass of scotch, but rather less than he might have on another night. He stood at the window with Illya and watched the same city streets strung with coloured lights and bright decorations on the light posts. “Are you feeling like sharing?” Napoleon asked very softly.

“I do apologize for inflicting my mood on you, my friend. This,” he raised his bandaged hand between them, “has rather spoiled the plans I had for the next few days.”

“You had plans?”

“You didn’t?”

Napoleon shrugged and took another sip from his glass, looking up from under his brows at his partner. “Sometimes it’s good to just let things flow along as they will, don’t you think?”

***

The intrusion was entirely welcome as Napoleon came awake slowly, lulled out of slumber by the warm stroke of a hard palm down his chest and a soft kiss behind his ear. That kiss became demanding when he turned into it, lips curving up into a smile as he returned the kiss and gave some of his own, his hands finding and wrapping around the hips of his lover, pulling them together toe to toe and chest to chest, mouths melded in a lock that made his head spin.

“Mmm,” Napoleon pulled back just enough to speak and Illya continued his kissing explorations, “good morning. This is a much better wake up call, my Russian prince.”

Illya stopped kissing his way down Napoleon’s throat to look up at him, “You realize that makes you the damsel in distress?”

“I am neither a damsel,” Napoleon rolled Illya onto his back, pinning him gently with his hips and thighs while supporting himself on his elbows, “nor in distress.” Napoleon nipped at Illya’s throat with his teeth, then slid kisses down to the tender spot where neck and shoulder met. He sucked at Illya’s skin until a pleasingly red mark was left, moving on to do the same on the other side. Napoleon moved to Illya’s Adam’s Apple and sucked as Illya arched his neck, injured hand above his head and eyes closed in pleasure. Napoleon smiled against his lover’s skin and moved lower, hands and mouth stroking, hips rocking to meet the still slow thrust of Illya’s. He moved lower still and pressed his knee between Illya’s, and smiled again when Illya shifted to accommodate him, opening for him. Napoleon slid further down the big bed and snuggled himself in the cradle of his lover’s thighs, stroking his hands up and down the firm strong length of powerful legs he knew could crush him, that had done so to enemies. That strength laid bare for him was an aphrodisiac all on its own. He let the warmth of his breath trace patterns on one thigh and then the other as he teased his fingers along the pulse beating hard at the juncture of Illya’s thigh. Napoleon’s fingers strayed every so often along the hard length of Illya’s cock, causing his lover to arch his back and push for more, harder, satisfying strokes but was disappointed every time as Napoleon pulled his straying fingers away with a teasing kiss of his lips to inner thigh and stroke of his palm against Illya’s belly.

Napoleon kneeled up over Illya and stroked both palms over his chest, letting his fingertips brush hardened sensitive nipples and then leaned in to nip with his teeth, was rewarded with an arch and a moan. He captured Illya’s good hand with his own, bringing it to his mouth. He kissed the hard palm that had woken him earlier then he sucked Illya’s broad index finger into the heat of his mouth, tonguing patterns against the flesh, describing without words his plans. Napoleon could see desire darken Illya’s eyes as he sucked and Illya watched, anticipating.

Illya pulled his hand away from Napoleon to wrap around the back of Napoleon’s neck and pull him down, kissing his mouth hard, tongue demanding entrance and Napoleon gave no resistance, welcoming the challenge, giving as much as he was given. Illya moved and Napoleon countered, covering his partner again and bearing down, distracting and arousing with skin sliding over skin and cocks hard against one another, getting one knee set against the mattress to give him some leverage to thrust and stroke his own aching cock against Illya’s.

Napoleon reached blind for the sliding panel on the headboard and felt for the box containing what he needed while distracting Illya and keeping his advantage. Finally he located the tube and palmed it, breaking the sensual brutal kiss to slide biting kisses down Illya’s chest and belly and swallowing his cock before Illya could get his wits about him to reverse their positions. Napoleon sucked and stroked Illya one handed, thumbing open the cap of the tube and taking care of some of his own needs while increasing his partner’s.

Napoleon crawled up Illya’s body once more, reveling in the sounds of his lover’s need, the heat of desire dampening their skin and quickening their breath, both of them at the edge of endurance that was wholly unrelated to the kind of exertion they usually found themselves panting at in their work, yet perfectly in synch as they always were when under fire.

Illya’s eyes flew open when he realized what his partner was about, locking with Napoleon’s as his partner joined them in the most satisfyingly primal fashion. Furnace heat surrounded Illya’s cock as Napoleon took his time to impale himself on the hardness that burned and then sparked a light show behind his closed eyes as the head of Illya’s cock stroked his prostate. He gasped and rocked to make the sensation last, head tipped forward again, chin to his chest. He slitted his eyes open to gauge Illya’s tolerance. His lover was watching him, lips parted as his own breathing became more laboured with the effort of letting Napoleon take his sweet time.

Napoleon increased the pace and pressure little by little until Illya was gasping and arching into each movement forward of his lover. Illya stroked his uninjured hand from Napoleon’s knee to his thigh and then wrapped that big hand around his lover’s achingly hard cock and started to stroke with the rhythm Napoleon set. Napoleon’s groan of pleasure brought a smile to Illya’s face and then a glitter to his eyes as he increased the stroking, pushing Napoleon faster over the edge until his head was thrown back and his muscles clenched with the overwhelming urge to come and Illya encouraged him with barely heard murmurs. Napoleon arched back and came with a satisfied groaning cry and Illya joined him, arched to bury himself as deep as he could reach inside his lover, his own cry of completion joining Napoleon’s and then they both fell over the edge and back on the bed and into a timeless unknowing haze of pleasurable aftermath.

Much later and after a shared shower that had more to do with continuing their sensual play and less to do with cleanliness, they wrapped themselves in each other and a comforter and camped on the couch with leftovers and drinks.

“I’m sorry I can’t promise ever after, but I will give you as long as I can with as much happily as is possible.”

Illya pulled Napoleon more tightly to him, one arm across his partner’s chest and his uninjured hand turning Napoleon slightly to look him in the eye. “I didn’t realize that holidays made you so maudlin, my friend.”

“I don’t think I’ve yet reached maudlin. I was just thinking about resolutions.”

“Let’s resolve to let tomorrow take care of itself and live today.”

Napoleon settled back against Illya again, felt Illya pull him still closer.

Illya put his lips against Napoleon’s ear, “Happy New Year, Napoleon. May we have many more to enjoy like this.”

“I like your plan, partner mine.” Napoleon leaned back and relaxed. “But then, I usually do.”


End file.
